Colin Raunig

PTSTREE

Colin Raunig

I never saw myself as a tree before, but such re-imagination is required in the theater. At least, that’s what the director of the local production of “Our Town” told me during auditions. In the Navy, I was an airplane mechanic. That’s all I was. I fixed a plane with a tool and then went home to my apartment to fix my own tool.

Four years and then I was out. I moved back home. One day, I saw the flyer for the casting call and I figured, what the hell. Never had the chance to act before.

I auditioned to be George, who marries Emily, and then to be Emily’s father. I even auditioned to be Emily. And George’s mother. I can do feminine in a pinch, if by “in a pinch” I mean all the times in the military I was called “bitch.”

It’s an unconventional war.

No main character for me, though. Not even a supporting one. Instead, I got cast as a tree. No costume, I was just told to stand upstage and hold up my arms in the shape of a Y. I asked if there weren’t any parts available? He smiled and said there was no shame in being a tree, that there was no tree like me.

On the first night, by the end of the play, my arms were numb with pain. At the after party, they hung limply by my side, and I just stood there as the director and the entire cast grabbed a hold of my hands and shook them, congratulating me on my performance. By the next night’s performance, the pain in my arms had subsided enough for me to get through my required duties, and I stood before the curtain opened with arms raised, at the ready.

“Thank you for your service,” the director whispered into my ear moments before the curtain rose.

The first and second night went on schedule: Emily and George get married despite their own reservations— everyone is either sad or dead at the end of the play—and by curtain call my arms were useless to everyday tasks like masturbation.

On the third night, my arms were shaking from the outset. By the middle of the second act, they lost all motor function. Just as Emily and George were declaring their love for each other, my arms fell to my sides. The crowd gasped at my deficiency. Emily and George stopped talking and turned around to see me just standing there and definitely not acting like a tree.

“Tree,” Emily hissed. “Be a tree, you tree.”

“My name is Steve,” I said.

“Play your part,” George said, frowning and putting an arm around Emily. They both strained a smile at each other and then turned towards the crowd.

I heard a “Pssst!” and turned to see the director offstage with his hands above his head like, See? It’s this easy. I ignored him. I shuffled towards Emily and George like a penguin, my arms swinging uselessly by my sides. I heard the director yell at me from off stage.

“Fuck you, Tree!” he said.

Emily and George tried to focus on the play, but the murmur of the crowd kept growing.

“I love you!” Emily said to George, on script, both of them glancing at me as I now stood directly between them. “But not as much as I love my country!” she said, putting her arms around me. George put his arms around me as well. “Ladies and Gentlemen, put your hands together for…Tree! It’s such a treat to have you here,” she said, laughing nervously. She began to clap slowly in a way that seemed sarcastic. “For his service to this country before deciding to serve the stage.”

The crowd roared and rose to a standing ovation. I stared dumbly out at them.

“Is this what you wanted?” Emily asked, hissing out of the side of her mouth.

“Yeah, Tree, is this what you wanted?” George asked, from the other side of me, smiling as well.

I stood there awkwardly.

“I don’t have anything to do,” I said.

“You could bow,” Emily said.

“Yeah, you could bow,” George said.

Emily huffed.

“Stop copying me, George!” she said.

“Sorry,” George said.

Emily and George grabbed each of my hands and lifted them in the air. The crowd’s applause lingered past the point of comfort. The pain in my shoulders returned, shooting, blinding. It was unbearable. The crowd wanted something from me and I realized I should say something.

“I--” I started, then stopped.

The crowd laughed.

“A guy walks into a bar,” I said. I then turned around to look at Emily and George. I wasn’t aware of where I was standing. Before I could say the punchline: Ouch!, I was falling backwards off the stage. The crowd gasped. I held out my arms. For either Emily or George I reached. I wondered if either of them would reach back. I wondered if anyone would catch me.

Colin Raunig graduated from the United States Naval Academy in 2007 and was a Naval Officer for eight years. He is currently a MFA student of fiction at Colorado State University.